BG02-Warrior with a Badge
by VStarTraveler
Summary: Lieutenant Urdea, a retired Colonial Warrior and now a detective in Fleet Security, is assigned to solve what appears to be a petty theft, but he soon learns it may not be so simple, and the safety of the rag tag fleet may be put at risk if he fails to solve the case! Complete.
1. Part 1--Prologue and Chapter 1

**Warrior with a Badge**

by VStarTraveler

Summary:

Due to an important upcoming Council vote, Colonel Tigh has Lieutenant Urdea, a retired Colonial Warrior and now a detective in Fleet Security, assigned to solve a theft from a disagreeable but rather influential Siress. While it initally appears to be just another petty case tied to the criminal underworld, Urdea soon learns that the safety of the rag tag fleet may be put at risk if he fails to solve it!

This occurs just over two yahrens after the Exodus from the Colonies and the events of my story SAFE-TY SYS-TEM.

 _Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, written entirely for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of the world of Battlestar Galactica is entirely my own, and Battlestar Galactica and all of its various components remain the property of their respective owners._

* * *

 **Prologue:**

With the destruction of the Colonial Fleet at the so-called peace conference, the targeted destruction of the primary planetary defense systems, and the first wave of attacks on the homeworlds, the Cylons opened the way for the invasion and ultimate annihilation of the Twelve Colonies of Man. Due to Commander Adama's quick actions, thousands and thousands of people were saved by taking flight to the heavens in whatever ship was available to them.

Among this human tide, in addition to many members of the Colonial Military, were some of the best and brightest people in the Colonies. They were people who could be great contributors in the rebuilding of the human race in general and in Colonial society in particular. In addition, there were some so-called "society-types" who generally seemed not to understand that their former way of life was now gone forever.

The vast majority of the refugees, however, were ordinary citizens who were just trying to escape with their lives and those of their families. They, too, would be instrumental in defending the Fleet along the way and in the rebuilding process, some practicing skills learned over a lifetime, but many others with skills or abilities as then-yet to be discovered, as defenders, workers, innovators, or even creators, filling, in a great many cases, positions of need rather than those they preferred. Representing the largest segment of the now-transient Colonial society, these people would ultimately be responsible for the bulk of the effort and much of the eventual success or failure of the overall enterprise.

There was, however, an additional, often overlooked and rarely mentioned segment of the populace, those who fought their way to the rag-tag fleet by whatever means were necessary, sometimes leaving trails of death and destruction that seemed to rival the ruthlessness of the Cylon foes. These included gangsters and mobsters, low-lifes, desperados, plunderers, villains, and criminals of every conceivable type, all making their way to the transports escaping from the Colonies, often carrying the much more valuable absconded goods of their victims who were left behind. When they arrived in the Fleet just over two yahrens ago, most found that they were forced, to a degree, to blend in with the rest of the population, but criminals at heart remained generally criminals always, so while they remained largely hidden and protected in the shadows cast by their fellow refugees, their criminal activities by no means ended.

With everything from food and clothing to electronics and tools to candy and makeup in such short supply, a barter market was quickly established on virtually every ship, with items sold by whoever had something to sell to whoever had something of interest in return. Deals often became quite complicated, with multiple parties, so dealmakers were often used. The markets served a great purpose, so they were tolerated and even encouraged by the Council.

However, if one scratched that veneer of respectability only slightly, one would quickly discover the underlying darkness of the black market, where one could also buy, often at great price, just about anything one wanted, even if no one currently had it for sale. The shipboard black market was usually run by the dealmakers under the direction of a local crime boss, who often also ran gambling, drug, and lower class socialator operations, but all of these were overseen, supported, and often supplied by a fleet-wide crime syndicate known as The Organization that employed a number of junior members charged with obtaining the specifically needed goods, drugs, or sex operatives, by whatever means were necessary.

'***

 **Chapter 1:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"_ _With the fleet's recent arrival in the Naransay system, the Council of Twelve's upcoming meeting in less than three cycles promises to be a contentious one. At the top of the agenda is the proposed plan to stop in the system for two sectars or more for resupply purposes. A source here on the Battlestar Galactica, who chooses to remain anonymous, has confirmed that long range missions conducted prior to Commander Adama's decision to take this route confirmed that water, fuel, suitable foodstuffs, and a number of much needed raw materials are available in this system. The unnamed source estimated that the proposed resupply plan calls for a minimum resupply effort of about eight sectons, with twelve sectons preferred._

 _"_ _Commander Adama is said to strongly oppose the mission at this time due to the supposed presence of Cylon forces still pursuing the fleet, though they have not been encountered in over half a yahren. The Commander reportedly feels that a lengthy and widespread resupply mission at this time could endanger the entire fleet, so resupply should be further delayed to put more space between the fleet and the Cylon terror, despite pressing needs for many types of supplies._

 _"_ _Another unnamed source familiar with Council workings has told me that if the vote was held today, it would likely be four or five members in favor of stopping to resupply, Commander Adama and about three other members in favor of a quick and quiet passage through Naransay, and the three or four remaining Council members undecided. We will bring you more on this story as it continues to develop…."_

'***

Blaster shots rang out. Not one, two, or even three, but many, many repeated rounds in steady progression. Then, as abruptly as the firing had begun, it stopped.

"Weapons clear and down!" called Senior Flight Sergeant Jolly, while the range officer started walking the line and checking each weapon in turn. Those who had just completed firing were then free to check their scores.

The Galactica's shooting range was an important training facility for the fleet's combat personnel, including the elite Colonial Warriors, the tough Colonial Marine all-purpose combat forces, and Fleet Security, with availability for other units as needed and occasionally even for civilian recreational use. Due to training schedules and certain interagency rivalries that could sometimes boil over, range training times were carefully scheduled to avoid overlap.

It was early in first shift, the so-called day shift in a fleet with no natural sun cycle, so this particular group of Colonial Warriors not currently assigned to patrols or other special assignments were present with their blasters set for tight beam, very low plasma bursts at medium range, appropriate for singeing targets rather than damaging the backstops beyond. The range officer returned to the side, watching carefully for safety protocols and checking weapon charge levels prior to each round, with Jolly leading the actual training exercise. The majority of the participants were very young male Warriors, most not much over 20 yahrens of age, who had been recruited from the fleet and who had received their training aboard the Galactica, but there were a couple of young female Warriors in the same circumstances. There were also a couple of older Warriors who were there as good examples and for their possible assistance. The other exception was the man dressed in a black Fleet Security uniform.

The security officer was in his early 30s, just a few yahrens younger than Jolly but still older than most of the youngsters around them, a little more than 1.8 metrons in height, with a medium athletic build, a full head of short dark hair, and dark brown eyes. He sported no facial hair, making his well-defined features clearly observable. Despite his different uniform, however, he was not subjected to the typical animus, or even often well-deserved outright hostility, directed at members of his service by Colonial Warriors, but rather, was the somewhat rare exception who was welcomed as a brother. Indeed, this was the case for his uniform included, in addition to a detective's badge, a patch showing that despite his relative youth he was a Colonial Warrior (Retired) and a lieutenant at that, which actually made him the senior officer at the training exercise. Still, neither uniform, nor badge, nor rank was important here, but rather camaraderie and the interest in doing really well...and doing it better than everyone else.

"I'm up by 6 points!" exclaimed Ensign Walrach, one of the youngest of the Warriors who had been recruited and trained following the Exodus. "And of you guys left to shoot, Pops here is the only person left who has a shot at beating me. He'll have to score at least a 47 to do it!"

Everyone looked to Urdea to size him up, and moments later most of the other Warriors were furiously betting on the outcome. Forty-seven out of 50 was a tough score, just besting his 46 from each of the first two rounds. With the bets in place, Jolly had the rest of the group shoot first, each shooting five rounds in five microns or less, with the highest score in the group being a 44, and then Urdea went to the line. "Come on, Pops! You've got this!" shouted a few supporters, while those on the other side were cheering for Walrach to hold the lead.

Jolly raised his hand for silence. Holding the chrono and looking at the range, he said, "Range clear! Mark, set, go!" and then started calling time. Five microns later, the match was over, and the target was totaled. "Forty-five!" shouted one of Ensign Walrach's supporters. With that score confirmed by the smiling range officer, the appropriate cubits quickly changed hands.

"Nice shooting but better luck next time, Pops," said Ensign Walrach, grinning at him as he grabbed his bag and started to head with the rest of the Warriors to their next training exercise, but he turned back to Urdea and asked, in a low voice, "Say, is your grand-daughter still mad at me? Do you think she'd mind if I call her again?"

Urdea chuckled at the jibe, "Funny, Walrach. You know I'm not old enough to be Jostine's dad, much less her grandfather. I was just her guardian until she turned 18 a few sectons ago. She makes her own decisions so I don't know if she's calmed down enough after your last stunt, but if I were you, I'd probably be calling her in a heartbeat to apologize and to ask her to give me another chance. Of course, I'm not still a goofy, young daggit-pup like some people around here," he said, grinning at the young Warrior who was looking quite sheepish and studying his boots rather intently.

He looked up then and replied, "Thanks, Pops. I'm really sorry. I'll call her and tell her when the shift is over and maybe she'll talk to me?"

Urdea gave him a smile and an encouraging nod, and Walrach took off running to catch up with the rest of the group. Urdea's comm sounded just as he was about to go as well. "Dispatch to Lieutenant Urdea. Come in, Urdea."

"Urdea, here, Dispatch. What's happening?"

"Captain Rance said for me to give you a call. He has a new case assignment for you, off-ship, so he said to bring your bag packed for a few cycles in case it takes a while. Oh, and he said Colonel Tigh personally asked for you to get the assignment. Someone's in trou-ble! Ha ha! Dispatch out."

When the exchange was over, Sergeant Jolly approached as Urdea was wondering what he'd done to draw the assignment. Jolly said, "Nice shooting, Urdea. I was just checking the record versus this time last yahren and before. It's just like I thought—you've made a huge improvement in your shooting scores! I'm guessing someone's been training with the Warriors and training with Security as well, right?" He grinned when Urdea confirmed his guess. "Looks like that's made a huge difference."

"Yeah," Urdea responded, "that and the medicians finally getting my meds dialed in correctly."

Jolly nodded and then glanced at the training scores again. "Urdea, your shooting is well above the required standard for Colonial Warriors, your physical work seems great, with your leg not seeming to slow you down a bit, and I haven't noticed you have any muscular tremors in a long, long time. Your foster-daughter is an adult now, too, so you aren't responsible for her anymore either. Is there any chance that you're thinking of reapplying for active duty as a Colonial Warrior?" he asked with a hopeful look.

The security office paused for a moment, glancing down before looking back into Jolly's eyes and saying, "Jolly, thinking? Yes. Actually, it's something I think about every single cycle," he added with emphasis, "but I really doubt that it's ever going to happen. You see, Doctor Salik said he couldn't sign off on my reinstatement if I was the last potential Warrior in the fleet!"

'***


	2. Part 2--Chapters 2 and 3

**Chapter 2:**

Several centars later, Urdea and Krixus, a young Investigative Tech that Captain Rance had assigned to the case and with whom Urdea had worked before on a couple of cases, were aboard the Ombirran Dawn. They were standing in one of the best quarters aboard the ship, a former all purpose freightliner that had once carried both passengers and freight between the Colonies and outlying worlds. Portions of it had been internally renovated as dormitories for singles, but most of the former passenger rooms had eventually been assigned to families, or to those with significant influence like the short and significantly obese woman currently standing before them.

"I tell you," shrilled the rotund woman at the taller, much thinner man standing in front of her, "it was right…right here," stabbing a fat finger at a small safe, disguised to look like a small trunk, but with its door ajar, "when we left for the Rising Star two cycles ago, but after we returned very early today—the interfleet shuttle schedules, when you can make a trip at all, aren't designed for civilized people!—it was gone when I opened the safe. I absolutely must have it back, and at least by the party at Siress Belloby's tomorrow evening! I wear it all the time, I feel so naked without it!" Gasping, she continued, "Now, are you going to go find it for me or just continue standing there like an imbecile?" She puffed out the last part through her puffy, purplish cheeks, scant centimeters from, though significantly below, the man's face, where he wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell from either her breath or her body—he really wasn't sure which. Her young maidservant stood cowering by the door, and Krixus, holding his large case marked "Crime Scene Investigation Kit" in front of him, stood next to her, seemingly ready to use it as a barricade for himself and the young lady if more than words started to fly.

Urdea, standing in front of her in the black security uniform, calmly reached in his pocket, withdrew a handkerchief, and wiped flecks of spittle from his face, and then took particular pains to clean the gold detective badge on his chest, almost as if pointing at it. Planning to let her stew in her own juices for a bit, he had to quickly rethink his plan when she recovered her breath more quickly than he thought possible and opened her mouth to begin another tirade. Raising his open hand in front of her, he said, "Well, Siress Alcyonie, I must admit that this particular spot was feeling awfully comfortable a couple of centons ago, but, for the sake of everyone else in the Fleet, I guess I'll get moving since we surely wouldn't ever want to even think of the possibility of you feeling naked…"

Siress Alcyonie's sudden sputtering attack led to more flying spittle, with her face turning an even more impossibly purple shade than before as her servant suddenly exited the room while the young man next to her appeared that he either was disappointed to see her go or was realizing that there was now one less potential target in the room for the Siress's wrath. "Officer Urgee! No one has ever spoken to me in such a manner! I have already put in a call to Commander Adama. When he calls me back, I will be reporting you to him to have you…have you…flogged!"

In a calm and steady voice, the man leaned down a bit so he was face to face with her and replied at little more than a whisper, "It's lieutenant or detective, Siress, your choice, but not officer, and the name is Urdea, not Urgee. As for no one ever speaking to you like that, I'm sure they probably haven't, not to your face anyway, since most people probably have more of an aversion to spit than I do. You see, I've been covered in blood, my own as well as others, as well as bits and pieces of other unimaginable body parts. I even had to swim through an excrement bog during the recovery of a couple of Warriors on a dinky little moon you've never even heard of, so a little spit really doesn't bother me all that much. As for the flogging, I'm pretty sure that was banned throughout the Colonial Fleet millennia ago, probably about the time you were in diapers. And if you think Commander Adama is just going to drop the very important work that he's doing to call you back, I think you've got another thought—"

The Siress's servant reentered the room and announced, "Siress Alcyonie, Colonel Tigh is on the comm unit to speak with you." The fat woman made an unfriendly face, which included the tip of her tongue, at Urdea, and said, "You'll get yours soon, Urbie. And you," looking at the servant girl, "get this placed cleaned up. Now!" as she exited to take the call.

As the door closed behind her, Urdea looked rather quizzically at the frightened servant girl and said, "Colonel Tigh, seriously? Oops!"

'***

"Colonel Tigh, I called for the Commander. Did the idiots in Fleet Communications misroute my call?"

"Siress Alcyonie, Commander Adama is currently tied up on an issue of critical importance to the entire fleet, but he didn't want you to have to wait, so he dispatched me to convey his best regards and see how I might be of assistance." On the viewscreen, she could see him, dressed in his blue command uniform, giving her a warm smile, which seemed to disarm her at bit.

"Ah, the safety of the fleet…it's always something, isn't it, Colonel? Well, I have a critical issue with which I need help, too, and the idiots at Fleet Security are—I hate to admit this, but it must be true!—laughing at me! I am robbed of my most prized possession, and they send a complete bollox to insult me rather than to find my precious barwarick. It has been a most embarrassing and insulting situation!"

Tigh looked confused on the vid screen as he said, "I'm sorry, Siress, there must have been a problem with the comm line. Can you please repeat what was taken?"

"My barwarick. It's old Gemonese for a particular type of love offering, a very special gift, between sealmates. They can take a number of forms, but my barwarick is an ancient and extremely valuable Gemonese brooch, crafted by the Lords of Kobol many millennia ago, that has been in my late Sealmate's family for hundreds and hundreds of yahrens. Sire Retronius gave it to me on our Sealing on Gemini, with the instruction that I should always keep it safe, and it would always keep me safe in return. I've worn it ever since then, except when I bathe, but something happened a few cycles ago and I had to remove it temporarily."

Tigh's earlier look of confusion had now changed to interest, "I'm sorry, Siress, but with your brooch being so important to you, what made you remove it?"

Siress Alcyonie huffed and rolled her eyes before admitting, "Tigh, don't you breathe a word of this to a soul! I developed the worst rash imaginable just before I left on my trip, and I had to remove it while the rash heals! It was awful! Then, some evil fiend steals it from my safe while we are gone! And now, to make matters worse, an idiot Fleet Security guy shows up to help me find it, but he's probably in league with the sneakthief! I want him replaced and punished, and I want my barwarick recovered!"

Tigh was nodding on the screen as Siress Alcyonie told the story, doing all he could to maintain his almost legendary composure and avoid laughing. When she concluded, he said, "I think I have in mind just the investigator you need. He's a Colonial Warrior on assignment to Fleet Security, and he'll—"

"Colonel Tigh, why on Gemini would a Colonial Warrior be assigned to Fleet Security? Now, I'm not up on the gossip of the Fleet like many people, but even I've heard that there is a lot of bad blood between those two groups!"

Tigh nodded, "It's true that a lot of those in Fleet Security are people who washed out when trying to become Colonial Warriors, or even Colonial Marines or Troopers. Only the most highly qualified succeed in completing our Warrior training, and becoming one of our multi-purpose infantry marines or our planet-side mobile artillery troopers isn't a cakewalk either. However, this is an unusual case. This Warrior served honorably and with great distinction for several yahrens before he was involved in an accident that killed his wingman and almost took his own life. It took a long time for him to recover, but fortunately, he did, right around the time of the Cylon attack on the Colonies. When he arrived at the fleet, we were in desperate need of Warriors, so we recalled some retirees and even had to start training women to fill the role, which in hindsight, we should have done many yahrens ago. He applied for reinstatement to flight duty. It was only then discovered that he had a previously undiagnosed neurological condition that most likely was the cause of his accident. During his long recovery following the accident, the combination of drugs he was taking helped keep his condition under control, but when he was well and finally off all of the medicine, the symptoms started to manifest themselves again. Doctor Salik and the medicians have it under control with medication now, but he'll never be able to return to a Viper cockpit again. Therefore, he's now assigned to Fleet Security as a detective and he handles some of the toughest cases. I'm sure he's the man for the job!"

Siress Alcyonie looked greatly relieved with Tigh's explanation, and even gave him something that might be considered as at least an approximation of a smile. "Thank the Lords!" she exclaimed. "What is your investigator's name, and how quickly can he be here?"

"Hmmm," said Tigh, looking to the side on the viewscreen, "Hmmm. By the strangest of happy coincidences, the Fleet Security log shows that my man, Lieutenant Urdea, is already assigned to the case, and that he should be there with you at any time. Oh, Siress, excuse me, there's an emergency so I have to run. Goodbye!" The viewscreen went dark.

'***

When the Siress returned to the room, she was surprised to see the large case the young man had been carrying was open, her maidservant was standing to the side, the young Investigation Tech was lightly dusting something in the safe, and Urdea was examining the surrounding area with a weird light. Before she had time to decide which offense was worse and express her displeasure, Urdea quickly took charge of the situation.

"Siress Alcyonie, I have instructed your young lady to stand to the side while we conduct our investigation. The crime scene is already contaminated; if she cleans the room as you instructed, she will destroy all of the evidence, which is currently our only link to the criminal who robbed your safe." He paused, giving her a serious expression, and then said softly and as warmly as he could, "If we are going to have any chance of recovering your items, I need your complete cooperation. First, we need a complete listing of everything that was taken…."

'***

 **Chapter 3:**

Following the interview with Siress Alcyonie, Urdea had interviewed Luchi, the frightened servant girl, who bore out every detail of the Siress's story. Unfortunately, Urdea suspected that the Siress had the young lady in such a state of terror that she would agree with anything the Siress said, even if it was that "up" was "down" and "left" was "right". Indeed, when he had gently suggested that the Siress might have a slightly different recollection about one small part of the story, the girl immediately apologized profusely, saying she was confused, claiming that the Siress's account was correct. Still, Urdea felt that she corroborated well enough to continue to the next witness.

This took a trip to the ship's laundry, a few decks below, where he met Alcyonie's manservant, Jax, who was fulfilling his current assignment of retrieving the Siress's latest batch of clean clothes. Jax was a young man, in his middle 20s at most, but seemed to be quite loyal to his employer. Urdea soon learned that Jax's parents were long-time servants to the Sire and Siress, and that on reaching adulthood, he had joined the servant team. Both of his parents had been lost in the Cylon attack or else in the Exodus, but he remained in her employ. "After all, the pay is decent, the work's not all that hard, though putting up with Siress Alcyonie can be tough at times, and the big perk is that I get to associate with Luchi and quite a few other cute servant girls," he said, grinning at his implication.

When asked, Jax also confirmed the Siress's story, and filled in some missing details. She had developed a rash on her décolletage, just as she had described to Urdea, complete with a downward sweep that ever so briefly parted the upper realms of the veritable rift canyon between her breasts, revealing what appeared to be the final reaches of an inflamed pinkness. The rash had seemingly developed overnight and was unexplained, just before she and her sister were to depart for their trip to the Rising Star. Due to the discomfort, she had been forced to dislodge her barwarick from its usual resting place, and place it in the safe. Jax said that only Siress Alcyonie had the safe code, so she had opened and, after placing the brooch inside, closed it herself. There hadn't been much time between this and the departure, so there was no time to visit a doctor or medician. Instead, the Siress's sister had returned to her quarters and retrieved an ointment that she had used for a similar rash some time before, and the Siress had changed clothes. They, plus Jax and Luchi, had then departed for the Rising Star, taking the shuttle craft as planned. "Working for the Siress means that the intership travel perks aren't too bad either," added Jax, "though servant accommodations on the Rising Star could definitely be improved."

"Hmmm," responded Urdea noncommittally. "Tell me, what happened to the clothes the Siress was wearing at the time?"

"I ran them down to the laundry to be washed, of course, so they'd be clean when we returned," said the servant. "Anything that falls outside her quarters, unless she is along, is part of my purview. She never wants to be without Luchi to help her. Most things inside her quarters fall to Luchi, unless it's too much, then I step in to help with that, too."

"I see. And where might I find the ointment that Siress Alcyonie used to cure her rash?"

Jax paused for a moment before saying, "One might say that the Siress's rash covered quite a lot of real estate, so she used the rest of the ointment. I recycled the container when it was empty."

'***

A short time later, after checking and confirming that the recycling had already been completed, Urdea was standing outside Alcyonie's sister's quarters, on the same upper deck as the Siress, but well down the corridor. He activated the buzzer with trepidation, giving one last thought to the horrible fantasy his mind had spun as he made his way back up the ship, the entire time wondering if the sister could be as bad or even worse than the Siress. The same intensely grating personality and general body type, he decided, but older, even crankier, and even smellier, with the addition, on her nose, of a large wart…black, with a clump of hair sprouting around it…and, perhaps…yes, that was it…tentacles! Urdea almost laughed at the fantasy he created, but he was fearful that it might actually be more true than not. And, since Siress Alcyonie said that her preferred title was Lady Leantia rather than her actual title of Dame, "due to the allita-what-do-you-call-it?" of it, Urdea suspected that she was probably half, or more, mad as well.

The hideous and increasingly ludicrous vision vanished as the door opened, revealing a shapely woman of about his own height and perhaps five to ten yahrens his senior. She looked youthful but mature, and, he guessed, was probably a bit older than she appeared. She was dressed in a long, dark green dress, which matched her eyes, that perfectly emphasized her feminine shape, with her brunette hair falling on her shoulders. Urdea paused for a moment and then glanced at the cabin number, confused.

"Do we have an appointment?" asked the woman, smiling slightly at the security officer's apparent confusion.

"Ahem…I'm sorry, I think I may have the wrong quarters," he replied, still confused. "I'm looking for Lady Leantia."

"What, pray tell, makes you think you have the wrong quarters?" she asked, now smiling fully.

Looking at her, he said, "Perhaps I was a bit misled. Lady Leantia?" She nodded with a smile, and gestured for him to enter as she replied, "Come in, please. My sister said you would be here before too long."

'***

Nothing about Lady Leantia nor her circumstances were exactly as Urdea had believed, nor, fortunately, were they as he had feared. The quarters were tiny compared to those of her sister, who, it turned out, was not actually her sister at all, but rather, her sealsister, since Leantia was actually the much younger sister of Alcyonie's late sealmate. "I was only a couple of yahrens of age when my brother Retronius was sealed to her, and I went to live with them when my parents died when I was in my teens and Retronius became Sire. They were never able to have children, which was sad considering their titles; I was almost an adult by then, so our relationship became more like real sisters than that of typical sealsisters. I must admit, we do often get that questioning look you displayed so well when we claim sisterhood without the added explanation." She gave him a little grin.

Next, she offered him ambrosa, but he declined since he was on duty. Pouring a glass for herself and a cup of water for her visitor, they took seats on the small sofa, where she curled her legs up by her side on the couch, leaving only a very small space between them. "Now, Lieutenant, how can I help you retrieve my sister's brooch?" she asked.

'***


	3. Part 3--Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"_ _There was a disturbance today just outside the bridge of the Krestoria, as protesters supporting the proposed resupply plan scheduled to be voted on at the Council of Twelve's upcoming meeting sought to make their concerns known. The protestors complained of being short on or completely out of a number of basic necessities and some types of specialty foods also said to be in very limited supply. Part of the resupply effort supposedly includes growing a limited selection of seasonal crops on one of the inner planets where conditions are said to be ideal for maximum growth in a short timespan, though the actual details of the plan have not yet been made public. At least one of the protesters said that other protests are being planned for other ships, and that the protesters' voices would be heard…."_

'***

Several centars later, Lieutenant Urdea and Tech Krixus were finally back in the Security Office lab aboard the Galactica. They had interviewed four of Siress Alcyonie's "suspects" aboard the Ombirran Dawn, and all four were, without more evidence, apparent dead ends. All denied having stolen anything from the Siress, or even having any desire to steal anything from her. All claimed alibis that covered at least parts of the period when Alcyonie was absent, but tracking them down would take cycles, cycles which Urdea didn't have.

There'd been a delay with the shuttle, making Urdea realize that since it was such a common occurrence he might actually agree with Alcyonie on something! As they waited through the delay, they'd gone through the Siress's story several times, along with those of the servants and Lady Leantia. Urdea smiled to himself on thinking of the Lady, and almost laughed out loud as he imagined her sprouting a tentacle from within that dress. Bringing himself back to business, there were no significant discrepancies between their stories, but unfortunately, no new leads either. Finally, there was the "suspect pool" as Alcyonie had insisted on calling them. According to what Krixus was able to find in the fleet database, none of them had any criminal record nor any known ability to crack door or safe codes. Besides, from what Urdea had seen during the interviews, he suspected that all four had enough good taste not to want to steal such an ugly brooch.

The only missing item was Siress Alcyonie's barwarick, a gold brooch, approximately round in shape, approximately 3 to 4 centimetrons in diameter, with a series of small markings that were illegible to the modern eye encircling a set of three diamonds that might have been the Kobol stars. Surrounding the center sphere, there were thirteen small points supposedly standing for good luck and representing the thirteen Tribes of Humanity, including those of the Twelve Colonies and Adama's mysterious Lost Tribe of Earth. Each of the points was encrusted with a different precious gemstone, which was in turn surrounded by twelve small white diamonds, representing the other twelve tribes. There was a small illegible marking on each point, but after a bit of study of a photograph of the brooch, Urdea was able to guess that these corresponded to the gemstone that represented each Tribe…assuming the traditional gemstones hadn't changed over the millennia. Overall, the brooch was about 6 centimetrons across, was solid and approximately 1.5 centimetrons thick, and was suspended by a woven golden chain of what Urdea readily admitted was of truly fine craftsmanship, instead of being fastened with the pin on the back.

Siress Alcyonie said that her late Sealmate, Sire Retonius, had given her the brooch as a barwarick, a Gemonese token of his eternal love and faithfulness, and according to what records were available, he had apparently lived up to his promise for nearly 40 yahrens, until his passing several yahrens before. The Siress had refused to give her age, saying that it had no bearing on the investigation and was of no legitimate interest to anyone except herself and the Lords. Unsurprisingly, her age was not listed in Fleet Records, but using the facts he knew, Urdea estimated that she had to be at least close to 65 yahrens of age, but probably several yahrens older. Siress Alcyonie said that the brooch had entered Sealmate's family six or perhaps seven hundred yahrens before, and had been passed down from generation to generation through the eldest child who reached adulthood. In the case of Sire Retronius, he won the prize by being the oldest of six siblings, only one of whom were still alive and accompanying the Fleet. Of course considering that he ended up with the Siress for almost 40 yahrens, thought Urdea, he must have expended all of his good luck in winning the brooch.

While Krixus was uploading the data to the computer and starting to run several investigative programs to sort through all of the information, Urdea was checking the photographs of the crime scene in particular, and the entry door and safe in particular. He also took a look at the security vids that they had downloaded from the Ombirran Dawn while waiting for the shuttle. There weren't many security vid cameras operational in that area of the Dawn, but fortunately, there was a vid camera at the nearest intersection on both sides of Alcyonie's quarters, meaning that they covered adjacent but not overlapping zones. Of course, as luck would have it, the entry to her quarters was not visible to either camera. By setting comparable search parameters, Urdea was able to have the computer search the vids and quickly eliminate most of the passersby, since they were visible on one vid, then moments later, they were seen continuing on the other vid, or vice versa.

Most of those who were visible on one vid but not the other were checked using facial recognition and found to be Siress Alcyonie's neighbors, who were most likely going to or returning from their own quarters. While that didn't necessarily eliminate them as suspects, and indeed, two of them were among Alcyonie's suspect pool, it did put them on the improbable list, with a follow-up visit by Urdea likely to be needed. Next, there were a few people who were going one way, but for some reason or another, reversed direction and returned the way from which they'd originally come prior to reaching the second vid camera's monitoring area. These were timed, and only a few people were found to have spent enough time off camera to have entered the quarters, much less open the safe. Finally, there were a few passersby that didn't fit any of the patterns, so Urdea ran the facial recognition software on them, too, and soon had a list of additional people with whom he wished to speak. Then there was also a guy with a large hat and dark glasses who put a hand in front of his face at the critical points, obscuring his face, as if knowing exactly how to defeat the vid monitor.

Just as Urdea was taking another look at the mystery man, Krixus called out, "Lieutenant, I think we have something. Come take a look." Urdea came over and was about to receive the news when the door opened and Colonel Tigh entered. He motioned and said, "Urdea, we have to talk. Privately."

The two men had walked a short distance down a corridor, when Tigh said, while still walking, "Urdea, sorry to get you involved in this mess. When she first left the message for the Commander about the theft, it sounded important so I called Rance and had you assigned to it. I had to play dumb when I spoke to her a little while ago so she wouldn't realize that the Commander had pawned her off on me." He chuckled. "So, what do you know about Siress Alcyonie?"

The former Warrior paused for a moment before saying, "Well, since you actually returned her call when she tried to reach the Commander again, and since you're here asking me this now, I'm guessing that what I'd like to say isn't exactly appropriate. She must be a whole lot more important than I originally believed. Am I anywhere close to being on the right track?"

Tigh nodded. "The Council of Twelve is seemingly almost always roughly split, forever leaving Commander Adama barely enough votes to maintain confidence in his military leadership and to keep his civilian programs in place while we search for the Lost Tribe. It's a constant struggle, which I think he actually hates, but he knows its importance, so he has to massage the right people the right way to win the votes he needs. Siress Alcyonie isn't on the Council, of course, but she holds a certain amount of sway over several of her friends, those who are fence-sitters who might jump off on either side. There's a vote coming up on the proposed resupply effort at the next Council meeting in a couple of cycles, and it's going to be a real squeaker. We're convinced that if we lose this vote and the Fleet stops, the Cylon scout ships might discover our location and either attack or, at least, cut down on their search effort, making us lose all the gains we've made over the past two yahrens, and making all of our sacrifices to have been in vain. For that reason, we absolutely must keep going for a while longer, even if it means that we continue to ration so many of the essentials. To be sure we can keep going, Commander Adama has ordered a task group headed by Science Officer Solon to determine how bad the situation really is, and to check our inventories. I would say fleet wide inventory, but the truth is, we really can't determine that. Right now, the inventory system is so piecemeal, with each ship operating its own system, if it even has one at all, that we don't even know what we do and don't have! There have already been a couple of protests over the situation, which could sway some of the Council Members if we're not careful. Therefore, we need to make sure we keep Siress Alcyonie happy so she will help convince our votes to remain 'our votes', which means, you, my friend, need to a get a move on and find that ridiculous brooch-thing for her. "

Urdea looked pensive. "Colonel, I'm not sure I understand this. I've only just met her, but already I believe she's one of the most obnoxious people I've ever met. You're telling me that she has friends that she can convince to help her? I find that quite hard to believe!"

Tigh laughed. "I know what you mean, but she's at an entirely different level of society than we know and understand. She has to be obnoxious to us because it's as if it's expected! Seriously, she's come through for us on several issues in the past, so we know that she has close ties with at least a few people and hopefully will be able to do it for us again."

"Hmm, I'd have never guessed," said Urdea, shaking his head in disbelief. "Still, Colonel, wouldn't it be better to convince those fence sitters by the strength of the argument rather than having to depend on someone like her through the strength of personal ties?"

"Of course!" agreed Tigh, "But that's what politics is all about, Urdea! We see things in black and white, absolutes, good and bad, but too many politicians see ever so gradually shifting shades of gray. They have to be accountable to all of the people, so they have a tendency to try to please everyone, and often as not, pleasing no one and doing the wrong thing as a result. Have you heard the news? Word has gotten out about the upcoming vote, and some people are angry, some are protesting, almost even rioting. There aren't too many yet, but as more people get hungry and scared, protests grow and things get out of hand. If people are hungry, if they don't have even the basics of what they need, they may be willing to risk everything by stopping in this system for a while because they're afraid they'll starve otherwise!

"Based on our last resupply effort about seven sectars ago, we really don't think the food situation should be that bad and that no one should starve anytime soon, but we're hearing reports of shortages on the news reports, and so is everyone else in the fleet. Therefore, what I'm getting at is that sometimes, no matter how strong you believe your argument is, the situation is so unusual that you need that little personal touch, a firm nudge if you will, to push the fence sitter off to one side or the other. Adama hates it, I hate it, and you hate it, but that's the way it is, and we all just have to get up and dust the dirt off ourselves after it's over."

Urdea still looked unconvinced, but he nodded and added, "Okay, Colonel, I guess I understand, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Then I guess that leaves one other thing that really bothers me—Siress Alcyonie, to the best of my recollection, is the pettiest person I've ever met…but I still find it hard to believe that she would be petty enough to put her own personal desires in front of the needs of the people of the fleet. She thinks recovering her pendant is important enough to her to risk the safety of the entire fleet? Does that sound right to you?"

They were back outside the Fleet Security office again, so Tigh stopped for a moment as he replied, "No, Urdea, it doesn't sound 'right' at all, but it does sound like Siress Alcyonie and some of the people of her kind, those who seem to think the universe revolves around them rather than all of us being very small parts in a much, much bigger universe." Tigh glanced at his chrono. "I have to get back to the bridge, and you, my friend, have to find that brooch! Now get to it."

'***

On hearing Tigh's explanations, Siress Alcyonie's reply about having any enemies or if she knew anyone who might be interested in taking the brooch much more understandable. She had literally laughed in his face on hearing the questions! Taking control of herself, she said, "Everybody hates me and everyone of any social standing at all would want it." She'd reeled off the first four names in a flash, and then listed several others that she said could possibly be involved.

Like he had all but said to Colonel Tigh, Lieutenant Urdea could see how everyone might hate her; after all, he'd only known her a very short time and she was already at or near the top of his most-disliked people list. That would take more investigation to see what might be in her background to hate her for more than her obvious obnoxiousness, crassness, and pettiness, but the second part really interested him. "Siress, I don't mean to be insulting and I know it has great value to you, but I don't think your barwarick is exactly the most fashionable accessory around. Why in the Twelve Worlds would anyone want such a…a bauble?"

Siress Alcyonie frowned deeply at the term but then seemed mildly retrospective for a moment before looking up him and saying, "I suppose you're right, it's definitely not a modern piece of jewelry that can be worn with anything and look good. I've often wished that very thing when it clashed with my dress for the evening. However, it's not its look that would make anyone want it. The reason anyone would want it is simple: they would want to keep me from having it."

'***


	4. Part 4--Chapters 5 and 6

**Chapter 5:**

A couple of centars later, Urdea had caught another shuttle and was entering a single men's dormitory on the Tylinium's Belt. Krixus had pulled several usable fingerprints from the room and the safe, but only one was not readily explainable, possibly as if the thief had donned or removed gloves just inside the door to avoid being seen wearing them in the corridor. He then matched the fingerprint to a man named Strogher on the Belt. Krixus had also used the facial recognition software to show a 60 percent match between the big hat and glasses guy in the corridor and Strogher. Still, there were a couple of things bothering Urdea about the case. The suspect had a record of several minor criminal offenses, but cracking open electronic safes had not been among them. In fact, it appeared that the suspect had no record of any experience with electronics beyond operating regular household goods. The other questionable fact was that there was no record of the suspect transferring between the Tylinium's Belt and the Ombirran Dawn. Since fingerprints don't lie, Urdea suspected that, while there was probably more to the story, there was probably also a shuttle pilot somewhere who had recently pocketed a few extra cubits or perhaps accepted a few drinks for looking the other way during a recent flight or two.

It was a first shift dorm, meaning most of the inhabitants worked first shift, leaving third shift as quiet time when most of the men slept. Since it was early evening, many of the residents were still out, but there were still a number of guys around, plus a few female companions, particularly at a rather boisterous dice game in the lounge area. Urdea glanced at the image that appeared on his comp pad to confirm that Strogher was not among those present, and then he began his search for the bunk.

Dressed in his Fleet Security uniform, he drew stares from several men as he passed but greeted them with a friendly hello, before finally making his way to the bunk that Strogher supposedly called home. There were three locked chests below the lowest of the three bunks and a standard metal three drawer bureau at the end. With Strogher assigned to the middle bunk, Urdea opened the corresponding middle drawer and started to search through the clothing inside. Finding nothing suspicious, he removed the drawer entirely, looked and checked all its sides. As he pulled the top drawer from the bureau, a man approached and said, "Hey! What are you doing? That's mine! Get away from there!" Urdea saw several other men following him.

"Sorry, buddy," said Urdea. "Here's a warrant allowing me to search it. Everyone remain calm, and I'll be out of here shortly. I'm just looking for a specific stolen item or anything related to it, so as long as you weren't involved, you're in the clear and I won't report a—"

The big man swung hard but was relatively slow, and several of his friends were moving forward. Urdea rolled away from the punch and swung the drawer upward, scattering clothes in the process, so that the attacker's hand hit the edge of the drawer. He grunted in pain, grasping for the injured hand, as Urdea let the drawer fly away with the follow through. Then he brought in his own blow to the man's unprotected chin, and then another as the man started downward. The surrounding men paused for a moment at the abruptness of the event, giving Urdea the moment he needed. When the man blinked upward, he saw the barrel of Urdea's blaster pistol pointed straight at his face and he immediately became calmer.

"Now, it would be a real shame for me to have to shoot you or your friends, especially considering that I don't even know your name and wasn't here looking for you. Now tell your friends to back off, then we'll talk for a centon, and I'll be on my way."

The man, grasping his hand, said, "It's alright, guys. Head out." Reluctantly, they backed off, with several heading back toward the dice game. A couple sat down on a bed a couple of bunks away, seemingly watching.

Urdea nodded and said, "Good man! All calm now?" When the man nodded, the pistol was back in the holster on his hip in a well practiced move. "Now, as I was saying, before we had our little misunderstanding, if you weren't involved in the theft I'm investigating, then I won't see or report a thing, but if you do have any contraband in there, you might want to think really hard about disposing of it really quick, in case we have to do a follow-up search tomorrow. Got it? "

The man nodded quietly, still holding the injured hand. Urdea pointed to the scattered clothes and said, "Now pick those up, while I try to bend this drawer back into shape for you, and then you'll need to go find one of your ship's doctors or MedTechs to check on your hand…that you injured in your…ahem, fall, right?" The man nodded again. Holding his hand clutched tight to his chest, he used the other hand to gather the scattered garments, and Urdea put them back in the drawer. Removing the last drawer from the bureau, he quickly checked it and the interior of the dresser, then pulled it out and checked the back and bottom of it. Finding nothing, he returned the drawers, and told the man to get to the medic.

After he was gone, Urdea checked each of the three bunks and the bedframe. Finding nothing, he then went to the locked chests under the bottom bunk. Pulling a master key from his pocket, he opened the middle trunk then sorted through its contents. Like the vast majority of the refuges who had made it to the rag tag fleet, Strogher's possessions seemed to be quite limited, with little of significant value, and no mementos of which to speak. He ran his hands along all the edges, and then over each side. Finding nothing, he restored the trunk to its original condition, locked it, and pushed it back under the bunk. He quickly did the same with the other two trunks, while under the glare of the two men on the nearby bunk. As he was finishing the last one, one of the men got up and walked away, peering over his shoulder. Urdea watched him go, memorizing his appearance, and then locked the trunk and returned it to its position.

'***

 **Chapter 6:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"_ _Following a protest aboard the Krestoria, several others have been organized and conducted in the past few centars as protesters call for the Council of Twelve to vote to approve the proposed resupply mission while the Fleet is in the Naransay system. At least three protesters have been injured in the actions, as well as a couple of Fleet Security officers posted to monitor the protest…."_

Not too surprisingly, Strogher, the suspect, avoided his bunk at the usual bedtime, so Urdea was forced to make a show of leaving the dormitory, and then sneaking back in a short time later to set up a watch from the lounge area. It was about three centars later when Strogher must have finally felt safe enough to return home. About twenty centons later, after Urdea felt Strogher would probably be in a good sleep state, he awoke the man and told him he was wanted on Security business. Urdea's hopes that the man would cooperate were quickly dashed when Strogher swung from his bunk and attempted to jump down to run away. He was about half way down when the cord that Urdea had secured around his ankle to the bedpost became taut, and a short moment thereafter, he was dashed to the floor. Being disoriented and perhaps even a bit stunned, Urdea quickly secured his arms behind him and cut the ankle cord as surrounding residents rose in their beds to see what was happening.

"Sorry for the disturbance, everyone," said Urdea calmly. "Nothing to see here, go back to sleep." Several lights had popped on in the area, and two very tough-looking guys appeared to be about to become participants rather than onlookers. Not wanting the situation to escalate further, Urdea added, in a friendly but conspiratorial manner, "Strogher, here, is just taking a little trip down to the medician's office to get treatment for a very private infection that he's refused to have treated. We really wouldn't want it to spread around the dormitory, now would we?"

Strogher was by then alert enough to understand what Urdea had said, so he burst out, "I haven't got any fracking infection!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's what you've been saying and now the Med Tech says that they're going to need new blood samples. Oh, and has Strogher here been sneezing? Please tell me he hasn't been sneezing!"

Anyone who might have come to the prisoner's rescue was now getting as far away as they could, so Urdea lifted Strogher's arms slightly behind his back and used them like a rudder to steer him from the room. As they exited, Urdea glanced behind one last time to see several of his prisoner's neighbors quickly stripping their bedsheets….

'***

In a tiny interview room in the far too small Fleet Security office aboard the Tylinium's Belt, Lieutenant Urdea was seated on one side of the table with Strogher sitting, hands now free, on the other. Urdea had been asking questions related to the theft without revealing too much: How'd you get the idea to rob Siress Alcyonie? Who helped you set it up? How'd you get from the Belt to the Ombirran Dawn without being seen? How'd know about the security vid cameras? How'd you get into Siress Alcyonie's quarters? How'd you how did you crack that safe? How'd you escape? To whom did you pass what you took?

Unfortunately, Strogher wasn't in a cooperative mood, and was refusing to answer. "That's a lot of questions," he said, looking almost as ill as Urdea had pretended he might be just a few centars earlier. "I'm tired, I need to visit the head, and I really not sure I can answer all that—"

"Sure you can!" said the security officer with a smile. "Here's a paper and a pen. Now, I'll ask the questions again, you write truthful answers, and we'll just sit right here until you're completely finished. Take your time and do it right; after all, we have as much time as it takes, and you don't have anywhere else you need to be anyway."

Still, Strogher clearly wasn't interested in cooperating and, in actuality, time was quickly running out. Before too long, with the suspect continuing to stall, it was time to take a new tact. Urdea patted the file, thumbing through a few sheets so Strogher could not see, then looked at him and shook his head sadly. "It's a shame, really, that you put in all the work for this heist, but end up with basically nothing for it, and then…." He shook his head again, and rubbed his temples. "Well, maybe the conditions on the prison barge are just exaggerated; maybe they won't be nearly as bad as they say it is. And maybe the prisons on Earth will be better when we arrive. If, that is, they don't just use capital punishment for everything there."

Strogher glanced up at the lieutenant with a frightened look. "But…but…."

The security officer decided it was time, "Believe me, buddy, I don't have all the answers to all those questions, but I have enough. In fact, with what I have in here, you WILL be going down for this, probably for the rest of your life." He paused, letting that sink in. "Unless, that is, you start helping me right now, we can recover what was stolen, and we can make this whole situation go away."

"The rest of my life? Please, you can't be serious! It's a stupid brooch, and a really ugly one at that, and it can't be worth very much. And the little book? I'm not the best reader around, but I couldn't read but a few words in the entire book. They're going to stick me in Hades forever for that?" He slammed his head down into his hands and kept them there, grasping his forehead, repressing a sob.

"Hmm, I think you're right, it's not fair, but unfortunately, you picked the wrong person to rob, a person with very, very powerful friends, a person who doesn't like her things stolen. But, like I said, we still have a chance of making this whole case disappear if you help me." Urdea glanced at his chrono, the time continuing to wind down toward the deadline, now only a few centars away. "Well, we've spent enough time on the ugly brooch, so let's move on to the book," he said authoritatively. "Siress Alcyonie didn't have a picture of it, so let's start by describing it to me."

'***

A short time later, Strogher was looking even more ill, and was again asking to go to the head. "We'll do that as soon as we're done here," Urdea said, plotting his next move. Of course, there had been no mention about a stolen book, so Urdea had gotten all of the information about it that he could from his prisoner. Since it wasn't reported as stolen, it was either forgotten or unimportant. Since it was apparently in code, Urdea wasn't buying either of those explanations, meaning it was deliberately not revealed as having been taken. It was quite possible that this was really the important item, but then, why would Siress Alcyonie not have demanded its return, too?

Finally convinced he had everything Strogher knew about the theft, including the code for the entry door and the safe, both of which he claimed repeatedly to have been given, Urdea decided it was time to throw him the last punch and the last lifeline. "Of course, Siress Alcyonie has said she will be willing to drop the charges if she, somehow, has her items returned. If they don't show up, then I guess I won't really need to wish you the worst possible future imaginable."

"But I don't have them," said Strogher, yielding to the inevitable.

"Oh, I know that," replied the officer, "you've already passed them along to someone. I just need to know that person's name."

"But if I give you his name, I'll be dead!" cried Strogher. "You just don't give up people in the Organization!"

"True, but when you're on the Prison Barge and they hear all the things you've already told me, you'll be dead in a heartbeat anyway. If you help me, I have a way for you to get out of this where they'll never touch you again. You'll be safe from them, do you understand? Safe, untouchable, free! Now, who was your contact?"

Badly needing to visit the toilet, and with the promise of safety, it didn't take Strogher too long to give Urdea the contact's name and fill in a few remaining blanks.

'***

A short while later, Urdea emerged from the Security Office toilet, much relieved, feeling reasonably confident that he had what approximated the real story from Strogher's perspective and the name of the contact and receiver of the stolen property. Strogher was gone now, too, whisked on to safety on another ship. The man had been none too pleased when he realized exactly what that safety entailed when a Colonial Marine recruiter had shown up to collect him and take him off to boot camp. Urdea doubted that Strogher would be able to complete the physical training program or that he'd be emotionally capable enough, but he'd given him a chance, and if the young man made it through the program, Urdea's promise that he would be safe from the crime organization would be true. No one, not even in the crime syndicate, would willingly bother a Colonial Marine! Of course, if he dropped out of the program, then it would be Strogher's own fault for failing and, essentially, for his own possible demise.

Checking his chrono again, Urdea realized that he was already several centars behind on taking the medication for his neuromuscular disorder. Stopping for water, he took one of the pills from his sleeve pocket and swallowed it, restoring the medication level in his body so he would not begin the muscular twitching that had most likely caused his accident and forced him from the ranks of the Colonial Warriors several yahrens earlier. Now, two of the little pills each cycle helped keep the random muscular twitches under control well enough to allow him to do almost any activity except for high precision work like cutting diamonds or piloting a Viper against the Cylons. Of course, he had no desire to cut diamonds….

'***


	5. Part 5--Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"With the Council of Twelve's upcoming meeting to discuss a possible resupply plan scheduled for early tomorrow, the fleet's supply situation is receiving heavy focus from Colonial citizens as well as Council members. Protests demanding increased supply availability have been held on a number of ships in the fleet, and a few protesters have been placed under quarters arrest for attempting to storm Council offices._

 _"An unnamed source has confirmed that Council members are under heavy pressure to vote in favor of the resupply mission, despite Commander Adama's warnings that adopting the plan, which calls for widespread distribution of ships of the fleet across the Naransay system to reduce the time required for the effort, could allow the Cylons to overtake us and possibly even leave individual ships of the fleet defenseless in the event of a Cylon attack. Adama continues to urge sticking with his plan for now, despite its hardships, to provide a better long-term outcome. The unnamed source also said that it is believed that Adama's objections are starting to be overcome by the protest movement…."_

'***

Still in the small security office aboard the Tylinium's Belt, Lieutenant Urdea quickly filed the pertinent details of the investigation so far, and then put in a ship-to-ship call to Colonel Tigh. The Colonel was not available, so Urdea switched to Plan B. "Jolly! Hi, it's Urdea." The security man spoke for a couple of centons, with only the occasional "Okay" from the flight sergeant. As soon as the comm went dead, Urdea headed back to the Belt's small shuttle bay. The next scheduled shuttle was a couple of centars away, so it was basically deserted except for a couple of Fleet Security guards, and a couple of maintenance techs cleaning and servicing equipment. Urdea sat down on a bench, and seeing nothing of concern, hit the quick disconnect on his left leg's implant, freeing his prosthesis from his leg. He left the prosthesis in place in his boot and pants leg in case he needed to do a quick reattachment in an emergency, and let his leg rest. Checking his chrono every few centons, watching as the remaining time ever so quickly slipped away, he sorted through all of the case records, tapping his finger at a few items of particular interest.

When he was finally done, he had a moment to think about the past few centars and the image of a certain beautiful, and delightfully tentacle-free, woman. At one time, he'd given up, pushing away the love of his life, but his life had changed over the past couple of yahrens. Now, Abby was gone forever, but perhaps this was the time to take a chance, to see if there might be something more in life. He'd felt...well, something...in Leantia's presence, so perhaps after this case was over, just maybe he'd ask her to dinner or perhaps out for a drink...

Fortunately, within about 45 centons or so, Urdea saw the maintenance techs start running around getting ready for the arrival of an unscheduled shuttle. From their shouted responses and grumbling, he was glad to learn that it was arriving from the Galactica. Urdea smiled and silently thanked Jolly and the Lords for their cooperation and the speed with which they'd been able to arrange it. When the shuttle was seated on the deck, the techs rushed in to anchor it to the deck, but the crew chief, a woman with a long black braid down her back, emerged from the control office and waved them off. Urdea, who'd taken a course in lip reading since being with the fleet, thought she was saying that it was going right back out. Of course, with lip reading, and particularly from a distance, there was always room for errors.

When the hatch opened, Urdea, who had already gathered up his items and reattached his prosthesis, strode up the ramp and boarded the shuttle. The hatch closed behind him, and the little ship was soon on its way again.

'***

Back aboard the Ombirran Dawn, Urdea left the shuttle and made his way down through the ship to Deck C to find a man named Pantolamas, who Strogher claimed had hired him to do the job and who had given him the codes for the door and the safe. According to Security files, Pantolamas was a shipboard merchant aboard the Ombirran Dawn who operated a small store out of his quarters, and was possibly one of the dealmakers rumored to have ties to the black market system. Like Strogher, there was nothing in his record about him having the ability to crack electronic codes either, though Urdea figured that it might have been possible for him to hire someone else to do it. Stealing the door code alone might possibly have been accomplished through a skilled hacker breaking into the ship's computer network, but that would not have had the safe's code in it. For that, the codebreaker would have had to have entered Siress Alcyonie's quarters to get to the safe, possibly exposing him or herself and the planned theft, so Urdea didn't feel that was a very likely scenario. He rubbed his temples as he walked, hoping that this would be solved soon and that he could get some sleep…in fact, some serious sleep!

Reaching Pantolamas's quarters and "store", Urdea stifled a yawn as he pressed the buzzer seeking entry. Three more times he tried, all without success, to get the man's attention. He was about to try one more time when he saw a man coming down the corridor. "Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find Pantolamas?"

"Who?" the man asked. "Oh, you mean Pan-TOL-a-mas!" said the man with a laugh. "I've never heard anyone try to pronounce his name quite like that! Ha ha! He's probably in his warehouse down on the bottom deck. He stores some goods down there somewhere since he only keeps a rack of smaller essential-type items and some of the more valuable stuff in his store. He has to live there, too, you know. Anything larger, you have to pick up down there."

After getting directions from the man and typing a brief message on his comm unit, Urdea made his way down through the ship. He paused for a few centons on the stair landing above the level, and then made his way on down and entered the cargo bay.

'***

There was a cluttered guard desk just to the right as he entered, but the guard was nowhere to be seen. Urdea picked up the bottle and unfastened its top, and then let it sit for a few microns before taking a hesitant sniff from the side. Convinced it wasn't noxious, he took a slightly deeper sniff and concluded that it probably didn't contain alcohol either. Therefore, the guard was more likely making his rounds in the cargo bay than passed out in one of the little warehouse stalls.

The stalls were actually a tight mesh, wire-type fencing with a pole at each corner, going up to the underside of an added mezzanine about 3 to 4 metrons above, forming an enclosed and somewhat secure cage to protect the owner's stored items. The stalls appeared to vary in size, but each one had a gate formed by a pipe frame with the same fencing over it. Some of the stalls were packed with various crates, packages, and other generally unidentifiable items, whereas many had only few items and a very few were even empty. Urdea saw two women in a stall near the entrance, searching a crate but apparently having no luck finding whatever it was they were seeking.

Suddenly, he heard running toward him with screams, but in the imperfect acoustics of the varyingly filled cargo bay, it was difficult to tell exactly from where it came. Seeing a dark spot at the intersection where the nearest light was out, he quickly flattened himself against the side of one of the fuller cubicles, his hand positioned close to his blaster, but it was all for naught. A little boy, probably about 5 or 6 yahrens of age, came around the corner and, on seeing him in the dim light, stopped in his tracks and screamed. This was too late however, to stop two other, slightly older, children behind him, who rounded the corner and ran right into him. The boy fell to the ground, grabbing at the fencing as he went down. A moment later, he burst into tears as he grabbed his hand, revealing some scrapes. Urdea stepped forward, gently saying, "Here, son, let me see that. Let me help." He turned on his little spotlight, which almost immediately had a calming effect.

The older kids were wide eyed as they and the little boy, still sniffling, watched Urdea look over the wound. "Is it really bad?" asked the little tyke.

"No, nothing permanent," said Urdea. "A few scratches, a bit of blood. It probably won't even make any good scars," he said with a grin. "Get your mom to clean it, and it should be good as new in a few cycles."

"We don't have no mom, Mister," said the older boy. "And no dad, either. They got all burned up by the tinheads. We live in the orphanage on Level J."

"I'm sorry about your parents. Isn't there a housemistress there who can check on this?" asked Urdea.

"Sure, Mister, but we got to go back to school now. Recess almost over, and…oh no! We got to go! He's coming!"

Indeed, Urdea heard another person approaching, rattling enclosures with what sounded like a metal pipe. He helped the little boy up, and all three children suddenly became very quiet as they scampered away, with the little boy mouthing back a silent "Thank you" at him as the boy rounded the corner. "Back to school? Thank the Lords," thought Urdea. "Hopefully their teacher will be helping them with their grammar, too…and soon!"

A moment later, the guard, a short, very heavyset man dressed in shipboard security uniform with what appeared to be an ancient blaster at his side, huffed around the corner with the pipe in hand. "Hey! What are you doing down here? Didn't you see the sign at the desk? No entry without checking with the guard! That's me!"

Urdea flipped the light upward, highlighting his own uniform and rank.

"Oh, oh, sorry, sir!" started the guard. "Can I help you with something?"

Urdea nodded, "As a matter of fact…."

'***


	6. Part 6--Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Urdea was stealthily approaching the stall where three men were positioned, one inside searching a crate, and two others seemingly on lookout duty near the entrance. Being close enough to see most of the action through a couple of adjacent, almost empty stalls and hear part of what was being said, he stopped to watch, listen, and hopefully document anything that might be of importance. He heard snippets of the conversation, "…shipment of…", "…can't believe they're doing that…", and "…know it was…somewhere….", but not enough to mean anything, so peering around, he moved forward to see if he could get to another stall that was a bit closer and which appeared to offer the cover he might need to conceal his presence.

As he started to turn the corner to make his approach, he was suddenly surprised to feel something poke him in the small of the back and hear a voice saying, "Don't move! If you make one, just one, copper, there'll be a hole in your back the size of your fist!" Urdea froze, keeping his hands where they were as his captor slipped Urdea's blaster pistol from its holster and then called out, "Got him, Boss!"

"Lords, it's about time!" said the searcher, coming out of the stall. "I didn't think you were ever going to arrive, lieutenant," said the man, who Urdea now recognized to be Pantolamas, his suspect. The man, approximately 8 to 10 centimetrons shorter than Urdea, was apparently in his mid to late 40s or perhaps even early 50s, with a very strong, muscular build, and a short band of graying hair stretching around the sides and rear of his head, just below his bald pate. He carried several visible scars, including a nasty one on his right cheek, which had been unsuccessfully camouflaged with a sideburn tattoo that was duplicated on the unmarred side. His dark eyes were squinting at the security officer as he approached, but, despite his rough appearance, what surprised Urdea most was that he had what appeared to be an excellent set of beautiful, white teeth, which flashed at the blackshirt as Pantolamas scowled at him.

"I've now heard from several people that you're trying to make serious trouble for my business. I'm afraid I don't take too kindly to that," said Pantolamas in a low, threatening voice, "so we're going to take a little walk 'n see about resolving this situation…permanent like."

Speaking in a firm, clear voice, as if totally unthreatened, Urdea asked, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, Pantolamas, but since it's not—"

The blaster in his back punched against him again, rather hard, so Urdea glanced over his shoulder to see the sardonic smile of the heavy-set security guard he'd faced earlier. Urdea gave him a questioning look, then turned back to Pantolamas and continued, "Just what kind of business are you in that my asking a few questions threatens you so much? I thought you were a legitimate business person with a few side interests, but if you're threatening a Fleet Security Officer…."

Pantolamas, having taken Urdea's blaster from the guard, said to one of the other two men, "Lock it up and let's go. We've got places to be. You," he said nodding to the other, "go ahead in front of us to make sure the path is clear." Both of the henchmen quickly did as they were bid, and the security guard continued to hold his blaster firmly against Urdea's back, pushing it slightly as the group started walking forward together.

Focusing his attention back on Urdea, he said, "Now, you were asking questions?" He laughed, "Sorry, copper, I'm not telling you a thing. Where you're going, it wouldn't do you any good anyway. See, there's an airlock with a broken circuit, so it doesn't register on the ship's bridge when the lock is open. Someone can go flying out of the ship, gone forever, with no one the wiser."

"Hmm, sounds like a decent and fairly effective endgame, but you really can't blame a condemned man for asking," replied Urdea, as if accepting the situation. "However, I am somewhat surprised that a big, important business tycoon like yourself would get involved in petty theft, though I suppose that black book probably has enough secrets in it that you'll be able to turn a pretty profit on it. If, that is, you could only figure out how to decipher it. Too bad that only two people know how to do that, and you seem to be threatening to send one of them out of an airlock."

Pantolamas stopped. Shoving Urdea's blaster into his belt, Pantolamas grabbed Urdea by the shirt with both hands, pulling him away from the blaster muzzle that had been resting against his back for the past few centons. "You…you know how to decipher it?"

"Of course!" laughed Urdea. "When I found out what Siress Alcyonie, the fleet's gossip queen, was really missing, I made her tell me all about it and give me cipher key. I hid it here on the Ombirran Dawn, but, sorry, you'll never find it once I'm sent flying out that airlock."

The burly man spun, shoving Urdea against the nearest stall, and said, "Give it to me, copper, and you live. Otherwise, I swear I'll shoot you right here, right where you're standing. We'll worry about cleaning up the mess and shoving your carcass out of the airlock afterwards."

Urdea, looking cynically at the dealmaker, replied, "If these are your best negotiating tactics, I see business failure in your not-too-distant fut—"

The blows rained in, one, two, three, unprotected to the stomach and torso, taking Urdea's breath away, and a fourth to his face, which he partially absorbed with a roll to the side, though it left a red welt in its wake. Pantolamas was about to strike him again when a thin young man with straw colored hair rounded a corner and asked, "Hey, what's going on here?"

Again gripping Urdea with both hands, Pantolamas whirled his head back toward the kid, wondering how he'd been able to get by his forward scout and surprise the group. He spat, "Get out of here, kid, now! And you didn't see a thing! Got it?"

A loud blast rang out, immediately followed by a thump.

Pantolamas started to turn toward the noise to his left, relaxing his grip on Urdea, but just as he did, he felt the powerful electro-shock of a stunner surging through his chest. Fighting the current with everything he had, he turned his eyes back to Urdea, seeing the security officer holding the small device in his hand, smiling through the red mark on his face.

There was another loud blast, but Pantolamas was too occupied to know where it occurred. He tried to grab for Urdea again, but the former Warrior, who'd had lots of hand-to-hand combat training over the yahrens, blocked as he twisted away, and then brought in a pair of blows of his own. He hit the dealmaker squarely in the nose, breaking and bloodying it, and then another knocking him backward.

Falling away and hitting the floor, Pantolamas struggled to pull the blaster from his belt. Finally free, he swung the blaster toward Urdea and pulled the trigger, only to see nothing happen. A moment later, Urdea's left foot, his boot-clad prosthesis, slammed into Pantolamas's face. The blaster went flying and the thief lay still.

Urdea retrieved the blaster and reactivated it as he looked at the situation around him.

Krixus, the young man who had invaded the scene, was performing first aid on the security guard who had been shot. Ensign Walrach, his blaster still in hand, was covering the other wounded henchman, "We got them, Pops! The other guy, the one in the lead, is in restraints in one of the stalls up ahead. The plan worked just like you figured. Well, except for you getting captured by fat boy there. Bet you're glad I'm such a good shot now, right?"

"Exactly," replied Urdea. "And I may even mention it to Jostine," he added with a grin. "Now, get restraints on these guys, too. Krixus, how does this one look?" he asked, kneeling down on one knee next to the guard.

"Yeah, I think he'll live, but we probably need to get him to a doctor. He smells pretty bad, too," said Krixus, crinkling his nose as he looked at the wounded man lay on the deck, clutching the burned area of his chest.

Urdea looked at the guard who'd held him prisoner without much compassion. The man had planned to help Pantolamas send him out an airlock, but Urdea still had a case to solve, so he decided to move on. "Yes, I do think he actually smells worse than he did earlier," deadpanned Urdea, "if that's possible. Get these two to a medic or doctor if they have one and the other one to the brig, while I take our friendly businessman for a little walk."

'***

With two missing teeth, a pulped nose, his hands bound firmly behind his back, his feet shackled together, and his mind still buzzing from the stunner charge, Pantolamas didn't realize where Urdea was taking him until it was too late. He spent some time yelling through the new gap in his formerly pristine front teeth, but on seeing him being escorted by a Fleet Security officer, the few people who came to check the commotion were soon sent on their way.

Standing by the control panel, running his fingers over the controls, slowly, as if he really wanted to start operating it, Urdea looked at his prisoner and said, "Your lead henchman was making a beeline for this one, so I'm guessing this is that very special airlock that you were mentioning earlier, right?" It was an exterior maintenance hatch, so it probably wasn't used very often.

Seeing the acknowledgement and hatred in the dealmaker's eyes, Urdea shook his head and then ran the exterior door seal test. "That looks good, so that means we can open this inner door." Hitting a few more controls and then moving to the door, there was a hiss as Urdea opened it. "Now, we're going to get you right in here, and then we're going to have a little talk."

Pantolamas started yelling for help, shaking his head and struggling violently, but Urdea pushed him into the airlock anyway. When the man was inside it, Urdea pushed the door closed, and then activated the speaker so Pantolamas could hear him but the dealmaker's yelled threats wouldn't disturb anyone else.

Urdea said, "Now, I want you to know that I don't normally work this way. Usually, we'd go to the interview room and sit there for centars and perhaps centars while I ask question after question, and you give me lie after lie. Then, we keep repeating that process until one of us finally screws up. Today, though, you win the special prize since we're in midst of a major crisis that could destroy the fleet and humankind as we know it, so I'm sort of in a huge hurry and don't have any centars and centars in which to play games with you.

"Therefore, it's going to work like this: if you tell me the truth, I'm going to let you out of the airlock, remove those shackles so you can walk better, and we'll go to the Fleet Security office. I'll go solve this case, and when I do, my Fleet Security friends here on the Ombirran Dawn will cut you loose and you won't see me again. You won't be going to the Prison Barge, much less going out this airlock, and you can go back to your usual life of being a quiet little shopkeeper, dealmaking, and whatever else it is that you do. You can even keep Siress Alcyonie's little book, though I won't be giving you the cipher code. Sorry."

Pantolamas was looking at him intently now through the glass, questioning whether this was the truth or just a pretty tale to trick him. Urdea didn't give him long to think however, adding, "Now, we're going to get started. The door is sealed, so I'm going to start removing the atmosphere from the airlock. I'm sucking the air out, a little bit at a time. There, got it. Feel that? It's probably just starting to get a little hard to breath. Oh, don't worry, we'll stop it here for now and get our questions and answers out of the way. Or else, it will get worse. A lot worse."

Urdea kept the sound off to avoid the noise of Pantolamas screaming in the airlock, but he said, "You know you're using up what little oxygen you have left. Hmm, it says you're down to just under five centons before you pass out, and then you'll be dead within five centons of that…IF I haven't sent you out the hatch by then. Now, I have just a few questions," which he asked, giving the estimated time left occasionally.

Refusing to cooperate at first, as time dwindled, Pantolamas was soon promptly answering and even asking what else Urdea wanted to know.

Moments later when the session was over, Urdea smiled as he hit the door release. It opened immediately, without trouble, without any type of explosive recompression of the chamber, since the pressure in the airlock was actually still exactly the same as within the ship.

Pantolamas, who was breathing hard, suddenly realized he'd been tricked the entire time, but Urdea helped him up and said, "The power of suggestion is such a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

'***


	7. Part 7--Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"Word is just in that a gathering protesting the current supply situation has just concluded with violence aboard the Colonial Movers barge. Protesters are reported to have demanded entry to see a shipboard supply officer responsible for distribution of foodstuffs. When they were told the officer was not present and were denied entry, an unidentified protester reportedly threw an object, striking one of the Fleet Security officers guarding the office in the head, knocking him unconscious. A fellow security officer, apparently fearful for his life, fired on the crowd, striking two protesters, both of whom are reported to be in very serious condition, before he was restrained by fellow security personnel. The crowd dispersed in panic, moving to other areas, where some protesters ransacked a different office that was also related to the ship's commissary system. Commander Adama has asked for calm and has promised an update on …."_

'***

Urdea nodded to Walrach down the corridor, and then did the same to Krixus in the opposite direction. Then he activated the buzzer. The door opened a moment later.

"Lieutenant Urdea! What a pleasant surprise! I was just thinking about you," exclaimed Lady Leantia, grasping his arm lightly and pulling him closer to her. "Please, please, come in! Have you found my sister's brooch? And can you share that glass of ambrosa with me now?"

"I'm sorry, my lady, but no ambrosa for now," he said as he gently disengaged her hands from him. "As for the brooch, yes, I think we've located it. Now, I just need you to give it to me so I can return it to your sister." He held out his hand, palm up, expectantly.

The beaming smile on the woman's face was extinguished as she realized she'd been caught. Crestfallen, she walked to her wall unit and reached to open one of the doors.

"Slowly," cautioned Urdea.

She nodded and reached inside of it to retrieve a small but ornate vase with a lid. Removing the lid, she upturned the vase and the golden brooch and chain slid out into her hand. She handed it to him, saying, "I take it Pantolamas squealed on me. One just can't find a trustworthy criminal these days." She sat on the sofa, resigned to her fate, staring blankly at the wall, as if ashamed to look directly at him.

Feelings were swirling in Urdea, too. For the first time since Abby, he had felt the slight stirrings within himself, as if, possibly, there might be some type of connection with this beautiful woman. It was nothing on which he could put his finger, just the thought that maybe there might be something there. His job initially kept him from acting on those feelings, and now the result would keep him from ever doing so. Still...he checked his chrono and saw that there was still somewhat over a half centar to the Siress's deadline. Holding the brooch in his hand, he sat down on the opposite corner of the sofa and asked, "Tell me, Leantia, why?"

She turned to him with a determined, defiant look and then hesitated for a moment before breathing out slowly, as if all hope was gone.

"Urdea, I was, by far, the youngest of five children, the afterthought, if you will. My brother Retronius was the only one of my siblings who really cared about me, taking me in when my parents died. I truly loved him and truly love my sister Alcyonie; however, the love of my life, my sealmate, wasn't someone approved by anyone in my family, including Retronius.

"He was a Colonial Marine named Dimitrios who I met while doing volunteer work at a rehab hospital. We dated for several sectars, then took the seal after he was fully recovered, about a sectar before he shipped out on a mission. That was the happiest sectar of my life, but that was the end of my life, too. The mission was a failure, and Dimitrios never returned. I received a small sealmate pension from the Colonial government, but due to my young age, it lasted for a maximum of ten yahrens since it was expected that young people would find love again and reseal. I didn't, loving only him."

Urdea nodded, thinking to himself that the last part sounded somewhat familiar. "Please, Leantia, go on."

"Retronius, ever the practical one and knowing the pension would expire and that our family fortune was more in real estate and good will rather than in actual cubits, pushed me into taking a career. I eventually did, doing the only thing that interested me, art. No, not creating it!" she said when Urdea raised an eyebrow. "I studied art, learning everything I could about it, including judging originals, spotting fakes, and most importantly, learning the art trade. I eventually became one of the premier art traders in the Twelve Colonies, arranging deals for various parties, and taking a cut of each trade. I became quite wealthy, with a large collection of very valuable pieces of my own."

Urdea briefly glanced at the few pieces on her wall unit and adorning her walls.

"No, not these," she said wearily. "Eventually, I was distant enough from Dimitrios and was working what was, to that time, the most complicated deal of my life. We were at an impasse between the parties, and I couldn't break it, so I decided to do something I'd never done before. I threw myself into the pot, and that was what closed the deal.

"I became the seller's kept woman, first for the brief stipulated period, and then for several more yahrens as I found I cared for him and he for me. Eventually though, his sealmate began to frown on our arrangement, so he broke it off, and I moved on, taking a new lover not associated with the business about a yahren later. He, too, was sealed, but his sealmate didn't seem to care, welcoming their time apart as time that he would not be demanding of her.

"Right after a big art deal concluded, I went straight to a mountain chalet on Virgon, where I met my lover for several days of skiing and romantic bliss. We were there when communications were cut, but didn't think anything about it, figuring it was just the storm that had raged through the previous night. It had been a glorious few cycles following some intense ones, so being detached and offline seemed like a blessing!"

Urdea shook his head and glanced at his chrono. "Where's this going, Leantia? What happened?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't the blessing I thought, though. Commander Adama was able to place emergency communications satellites into orbit to inform people of the Cylon attack and the Exodus. I tried to get my lover to flee with me, but he said no, that he had to go save his family. I understood and didn't try to convince him further. He was determined and there was no time." She paused, remembering the fear that had gripped them.

Urdea nodded in return. Everyone in the Fleet except the very youngest would always remember the Cylon attack, what they were doing, and how they escaped.

Altenia continued, "He took his aircar and I never saw him again; from what I've been able to discover, he never made it to the Fleet. I took my aircar, plus the three servants at the chalet and as much food and supplies as it would carry, and we made our way to a small town where a shuttle was boarding refugees.

"I arrived at the Fleet with almost nothing, just a small bag of clothes, my art evaluation kit, and a few pieces of jewelry. All of my valuable art, as well as all of my money, was gone. I eventually found Alcyonie—my brother Retronius had passed away a few yahrens earlier—and she helped me get established here. Still, I was broke, and my training was completely worthless."

"Worthless? I don't know about that," replied Urdea. "Lots of people brought lots of unconventional skills with them when we were forced to flee the Colonies. Surely?"

She looked at him inquiringly and said, "Did you know that it's been estimated that over 99.99% of public fine art in the Colonies was either destroyed, abandoned, or lost just before or during the Exodus? No one needs a fine art expert when there is no fine art. Therefore, I had to fall back on my other two assets, dealmaking and…me."

Urdea inhaled sharply on this but then exhaled slowly as he replied, "A great many people have adapted and learned new skills since they've been with the Fleet, too. There are calls for people to fill or learn skills all the time. Didn't you consider this?"

"Urdea, of course, I did, but I really didn't see anything that really reached out and grabbed me, that held my interest for more than a moment or two. Perhaps I didn't try hard enough to find something else and maybe I'm a bit spoiled, but being able to arrange deals readily, I, in effect, became a highly sought-after independent socialator. Then, it wasn't too long after that before I was returned to something of the status to which I was accustomed."

As her words sunk into his consciousness, he realized that he wasn't breathing. The heaviness was bearing on his mind and his heart as he finally drew in another breath.

"Unfortunately, there are certain people's, and certain organization's, business dealings that are threatened by a woman like me," Leantia continued, "so I was soon being pressured to join one of their enterprises. Eventually, the threats became too great, and I started having to pay them off, just a percentage of each deal, but the demands kept increasing, over and over again. Therefore, I started looking for a way out."

Feeling more crushed by her revelations and what she'd experienced than he'd even dared anticipate beforehand, Urdea asked softly, "What did you do?"

"First, I went to Alcyonie and told her the whole story. I asked for her help since she always knew things about people that might help, but she refused. In fact, she seemed a little angry at me, which was the only time that's ever happened. She said there was nothing she could do, that it would endanger too many other things. I was really disappointed, but then the situation just kept getting worse and I finally had to hatch a plan on my own.

"I went to Pantolamas, the person I had to pay off each secton here on the Ombirran Dawn, and told him that I needed his organization to steal something for me. It was, of course, Alcyonie's brooch, an old family heirloom that I really wanted. It was of no value to anyone but me, but the reason that he should be interested in performing the theft for me was a second, unreported, item in the safe."

Concentrating on the case rather than Leantia, Urdea's eyes widened slightly, as if in surprise, while thinking, _Finally, what was in that book?_

Leantia took a deep breath, then put her forehead down against her clasped her hands as she sighed. Looking back up at him, she continued, "Yes, there were actually two items taken from that safe, which had belonged to my parents before Retronius. I, ah...I knew the access code from my ambitious and rather rambunctious childhood." She smiled briefly at the thought.

"You know all about the brooch already, but the other item that Alcyonie didn't mention is what I put in there. It was a small book, written in an undecipherable code, that refers to many of the bigwigs in the Fleet. Everyone's known for yahrens that Alcyonie has this, but no one has ever seen it, so they didn't know exactly what to expect."

 _I knew it!_ Urdea thought to himself. Aloud, he whispered, "So Siress Alcyonie had the goods on people in that book, right?"

Leantia looked into his eyes and smiled, "Close, but not quite, Urdea. I did it. I created the very thing they were expecting, writing numerous names in regular script, then writing a number of lines for each in a special 'code.' Of course, the 'code' didn't correspond to anything, so what I was writing on each was gibberish! Then I had to wait, though it wasn't too long.

"On the night before we were to leave, my sister put on her nightgown, on which I had dusted a white irritant powder."

Seeing the look of concern in his eyes, Leantia laughed lightly, "No, no, it wasn't poison! It was actually an industrial dust sometimes used in evaluating fine art. I found out about its properties in my studies; we use gloves and a mask when using it on statues and certain types of paintings. I had a small vial of it in my art evaluation kit, so I used it to good effect. Most of the dust probably fell off on the sheet, but some fell into a convenient spot where it was trapped and did its work," she said smiling.

"When she awoke, she had been scratching during the night, so she was very inflamed. I ran to my quarters and got the ointment for her, and Jax took her nightclothes and bedclothes down to the laundry for cleaning while we were away. Alcyonie put the brooch in the safe, and then took Luchi into her room to have the girl apply the ointment. Knowing I had little time, I quickly opened the safe, popped the little book inside, wiped down the spots on the safe that I might have touched to take care of any of those fingerprints like they always show in the vid programs, and soon we all left for the Rising Star.

"After we returned, I met with Pantolamas and received the brooch from him. He kept the book, of course, but was upset at the time that he couldn't decipher it." She laughed and added, "He may still be working on that when we finally reach the Lost Colony!"

"So," said Urdea, "it really is the brooch that's the key. It's some type of ancient memory device that has all the information that Pantolamas thought would be in the book, right? You get the information then you're able to free yourself from the mess you're in?"

She arched an eyebrow at him and nodded, "Very good, Urdea, but still, not quite right. In my art studies, I came across an old picture of the brooch, but this," she said, pointing to it in his hand, "isn't the same one. Someone in my family recreated it in the past few hundred yahrens, and had a small door installed in the back, accessible by ever so lightly pressing the correct combination of stones on the front. It was a tough combination and I'd have never figured it out, but fortunately, I came across it written in one of my brother's books during those rambunctious childhood days I mentioned.

"I tested it while my sister was in her bath one day, and found a data chip inside. Once you know it's there, knowing what my brother told her about the brooch, that it would be the eternal symbol of his love to the Siress, but also her magical amulet of protection against those who would wish to do her harm, and knowing that there were long rumors of her ability to sway her peers using secret information she possessed, it didn't take much to figure it out."

She took the brooch from his hand, pressed a number of the gemstones in a set sequence, and then held it back out to him, with the back popped open. When Urdea took the broach once more, he carefully moved the back and the little data chip fell out into his open hand. She nodded to him.

"Once I had the brooch, I copied the data chip, and then searched it after our discussion yesterday, looking for those who could help me. It didn't take much to find them. With a transfer of data and a bit of targeted erasing on Alcyonie's chip, I bought my freedom last night."

She bowed her head, making it difficult to see the tears running down her cheeks, as she added, "And now, today, you're going to take that away from me."

Urdea hesitated for a moment and then for a few more, before rising from the sofa and walking toward the door. When he reached it, he turned and, though it was the hardest thing he'd had to do in a long time, he said, "Siress Alcyonie said that she wanted her brooch back, and that she would not press charges against the people who took it if it was returned safely. I have the brooch in hand, and it looks safe to me."

Looking into her eyes where she was still unsuccessfully fighting back the tears, he added, "Goodbye and good luck, Lady Leantia, I sincerely hope you have the life you've been seeking."

'***


	8. Part 8--Chapter 10 and Epilogue

**Chapter 10:**

Seeing that there was still over twenty centons before Siress Alcyonie's deadline, Urdea met Krixus and Walrach in the corridor and ushered them into a small lounge. "Krixus, do you have your computer with you?" Urdea asked. Krixus confirmed that he did, so Urdea said, "Quickly, we don't have much time…."

'***

In the small war room just off the bridge of the Battlestar Galactica, there were almost a dozen senior officers, including Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh, Captain Apollo, Captain Rance, and Lieutenant Athena, sitting around the table. Adama sat at the end of the oval table and had just finished receiving updates on the situation across the fleet and the status of the inventory currently being conducted. There were indeed shortages and the situation was dire. It appeared that panic was starting to set in, which would likely lead to the Council of Twelve being forced to vote to conduct the resupply now while in the Naransay system, rather than putting it off a little longer in the relative safety of a much wider array of star systems. Sensing a dead end approaching, Adama asked for input.

"Commander Adama, if I may?" said Solon, an elderly science officer who had transferred to the Galactica a few sectars before. He was tall, very thin, and bald, making him look almost wizened, but he was believed to be one of the most accomplished scientists in the fleet. When Adama gave him the floor, Solon rose from his chair, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a small bag. Opening it, he produced what appeared to be a piece of candy, which he promptly popped into his mouth.

"This bag is filled with 30…no," he laughed, "make that 29…sweet drops. It was the last bag available in the commissary. In fact, it would normally have 50, but the lady I spoke with at the candy factory aboard the Cesaphus told me that they cut back recently when their supplies started getting low. They wanted to make sure that as many people as possible could still get at least some sweet drops. When we left the colonies, there weren't very many sweet drops available anywhere in the fleet. Like so many other products we want, though, people who have skills making certain things have gotten together with similar, like-minded people, and they've gotten approval to establish little factories like this throughout the fleet. Of course, we can only do this as supplies are available and the needed machinery can be built, but we've seen over a hundred small factories created in the past couple of yahrens. Now, when we have supplies to make them, we can manufacture sweet drops for sweet-tooths like me, or mascara for the women, or even crayons for the children."

The Commander was looking a bit puzzled, since so far, Solon had only confirmed that with inadequate supplies, they would not be able to manufacture the items desperately needed by the people of the fleet. Solon continued, however, pulling another sweet drop from the bag and holding it up for the others to see.

"Sweet drops normally come in five flavors which can be identified by their color: yellow, red, orange, green, and my personal favorite, blue for blueberry. However, as you can see, this one is sort of gray. When sweet drops are made, the basic recipe is the same until it's time to add the final flavors for each of the five types, and a bit of food coloring to each to make the candy more readily identifiable. Without the food coloring, the final product tastes different, but they all look basically the same."

He popped this one in his mouth and said, "Mmm, redberry, another excellent choice!" Savoring it, he continued, "Unfortunately, we haven't been able to start manufacturing natural food coloring so far, so our friends the candy makers have only a very limited supply left. Therefore, they came up with a new idea." He reached into the bag and extracted yet another sweet drop, holding it up for all to see the gray color, before flipping it around so everyone could see the little orange dot on the back of it. "By adding a tiny dot of colored coating to each sweet drop, their tastiness was unaffected, the flavor of each could be identified, and the food coloring supply would last the candy makers for as much as a yahren, by which time, they hope to have the natural coloring they need."

He dropped the orange coded sweet drop back in the bag, which he passed to Apollo. "Now, we're going to do a little experiment as a demonstration. Captain, please reach into the bag and remove five sweet drops, and then pass the bag along to your left. Don't look at the sweet drops until I tell you. Colonel, you'll do the same, and we'll keep going until six people have sweet drops."

When the last person reached into the bag, he pulled out only three sweet drops," to which Solon pointed and said, "We all agree that we have shortages, so there's not always enough to go around." There were nods around the table, but Solon continued, "Now, look at the sweet drop supply in your hand, find a yellow sweet drop, and put it on the table in front of you."

Four people placed a sweet drop in front of them, while the other two looked almost questioningly at the sweet drops in their hands.

"Now, do the same with a green."

This time, three people placed sweet drops in front of them. Solon continued with the other colors, but when he was done, everyone had a few sweet drops on the table, but still had one or more remaining in their hands. Commander Adama was nodding and genuinely smiling for the first time in what seemed like cycles. After this, Solon gave some further instructions, to which Adama also nodded, and then he concluded his remarks, saying, "Now, everyone is welcome to select your favorite sweet drop for a treat, and we'll return the rest of these to the bag to be distributed to some lucky souls on the bridge."

'***

Less than five centons before Alcyonie's stated deadline, Urdea buzzed the door at her quarters. The ever-fright-eyed Luchi answered the door, and ushered him and Krixus inside.

"Siress Alcyonie, your brooch has been safely recovered," Urdea said, holding it out to her.

She smiled at him and said, "Lieutenant Urdea! My barwarick, wonderful! Retronius can rest in peace again. Now, help me put this back on where it belongs."

As he carefully placed it around her neck, being careful to avoid touching her still pink skin, he said, "We have agreed not to prosecute the guilty parties in return for the safe retrieval of your brooch, but I do want to warn you about a possible problem with your door and your safe. Krixus can reset them for you with a new pass codes so they shouldn't be a problem again. I would encourage you not to give the codes to anyone other than those who live in your immediate household."

"Yes, of course!" said the Siress, stepping toward her bedroom. "Do that. Now, you must excuse me. Girl, once Krixkin fixes the door and that safe, see both of them out."

A few centons later, Urdea and Krixus stepped back into the hall, the case complete. Krixus, chuckling and shaking his head, held out his hand to Walrach, who said, "Seriously?" When Krixus confirmed with a nod and a huge smile, Walrach reached in his pocket and handed the investigator two cubits.

Urdea looked at the men questioningly and asked, "Another bet? What's this one about?"

Ensign Walrach laughed and said, "Krixus swore to me that she wouldn't but I really thought Siress Alcyonie would end up telling you guys 'thank you!'"

'***

 **Epilogue:**

 _Interfleet news broadcast:_

 _"Commander Adama released a statement on the current supply situation just centons ago. The statement says that while there have been supply issues throughout the fleet, a just concluded inventory that has been the focus of much of the senior staff over the past few cycles shows that almost all particular shortages are localized to a small group of ships, whereas most other ships have adequate supplies of that same item, but shortages of other types of items._

 _"Therefore, effective immediately, the Commander has ordered that intership passenger service be temporarily discontinued so the shuttles can be used to move supplies from points of plenty to points of need. The Commander called for calm in the midst of the crisis as supplies are redistributed to areas needed, and he promised that a resupply effort is planned in the near future in an upcoming star system. Finally, he said that Science Officer Solon has been assigned the task of improving the fleet's current inventory control system so the current distribution problem does not recur in the future. How all of this will affect tomorrow morning's vote by the Council of Twelve on the currently proposed resupply effort remains to be seen…."_

'***

With the brooch back in place about her neck, Siress Alcyonie discreetly contacted three of the four wavering Council members to let them know that their data was once more safely back in her possession, and that they would be expected to vote as she suggested if they wished it to remain secure. With Adama's impassioned plea at the Council Meeting and his promise to the people of the fleet that resupply would occur in the near future in an upcoming star system, seven of the other Council members voted with him to continue onward, postponing the resupply effort until they were further from the Cylon threat. It's not known if it was Adama's plea or Alcyonie's urging that swayed the three fence-sitters since the fourth fence-sitter voted the same way. Either way, the Colonial Fleet slipped silently through the Naransay system, and soon was off to the next star system in the distance, further reducing the odds of rediscovery by the Cylons.

Due to the temporary shuttle reassignment while in the Naransay system, Siress Belloby's party had to be postponed. Using the system as only she knew how, she surprised Commander Adama by contacting him directly on his office comm unit, and registered her rather lengthy complaint. With the supply situation stabilized, calm restored, and the injured recovering, the Commander was relatively happy to be faced with such a simple issue, so he nodded and took his verbal beating, while quietly controlling his urge to laugh.

To Urdea's great surprise, Strogher, the thief who had stolen the brooch, actually excelled and successfully completed the boot camp training to become a private in the Colonial Marines. Urdea attended the graduation ceremony, and afterward presented the young man a small bottle of crystal ambrosa, which Strogher gratefully accepted and shared with the security man and a number of his fellow marines.

Pantolamas, who had orchestrated the theft, was truly surprised when Urdea lived up to his word, releasing him without prosecution. Thrilled by his good luck, he promptly obtained new dental implants to restore his smile. He returned to his former life with the intent of being more secretive in his underworld dealings, especially since he now had a secret weapon that he could use to bring more power to himself and the Organization which he served. However, that weapon never came to fruition; he was never able to decode the little book from Siress Alcyonie's safe. Unfortunately for him, he'd promised far too much to his superiors in the Organization, and let slip one of the names in the book. He was found hung from a cross pipe a few sectars later. It was officially ruled a suicide, though no one ever explained how he'd been able to hang himself in that manner from that particular position without some type of chair or ladder, neither of which was ever found. Lieutenant Urdea, incidentally, was not assigned to the case. The little book was never seen again.

Lady Leantia seemed to have indeed found the life she sought, but as time passed, she began to have a harder time keeping it. She eventually took a few high-profile lovers in succession, but being a kept woman in the fleet was much different and much more difficult than it had been in the Colonies, and each man eventually went his own way, leaving her little to show for her efforts. Urdea had no idea if it was true, but a yahren or so later, he heard a very discreet rumor that there was a very high class socialator once more available for appointments on an upper deck aboard the Ombirran Dawn.

'***

It was several sectons after her brooch had been returned that Siress Alcyonie felt the need to retrieve and update a bit of newly received but very juicy data on her data chip. Locked in her bedroom with her computer in front of her, she opened the brooch, carefully removed the data chip, and plugged it into its slot on the computer. When she went to bring up the data, her computer seemed to hesitate for a moment before her files appeared. Suddenly the listing jumped, with some of the files seemingly being rearranged from their typical positions. Looking at the list, she was about to open the file she sought when her heart stopped for a beat—there on the screen was an unfamiliar file name, one that she had never seen before in many yahrens of using the data! Wondering why the file would be making its presence known only now, she hesitated for only a moment before opening it. The text inside said:

 _My dear Siress Alcyonie,_

 _We at Fleet Security were very pleased to recently be able to assist you in recovering your stolen brooch. We know how much it meant to you and how it probably held even more importance to you than you let on to us at the time. As we close out our file on this case, please be aware that Colonial law requires us to keep evidence or copies of evidence on file for varying periods of time following closure of cases. This includes photographs of stolen items or copies of digital files such as those on this data chip. Therefore, we have retained a copy of said digital files in case there are ever any further issues regarding this case._

 _Finally, I might also point out that use of other people's sensitive personal data, such as might be found in these files, for financial, personal, or professional gain is one of the definitions of blackmail and is a clear violation of Colonial law. Any such use by unscrupulous parties would be pursued most vigorously if it came to our attention in Fleet Security. Fortunately, we are quite sure that this will not be the case here, since the data is securely back in your good hands and since we at Fleet Security, legally having a copy of the data as noted above, have, by now, distributed each individual's personal data to that person for their own information and possible corrective action._

 _Please let me know if we can be of further assistance._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Lieutenant Urdea,  
Detective, Fleet Security _

At the time, no one knew the cause or exactly from whence it came, but despite the Ombirran Dawn's thick floors and bulkheads and the steady lumbering of her massive engines, Siress Alcyonie's resulting bitter wail was said to have been heard even in very distant parts of the ship.

'***

Less than five sectons after the Council vote, a Cylon scout baseship entered the Naransay system and began its fruitless search for signs of the Colonial Fleet….

The End

'***

 _ **A couple of final notes to readers:**_ _In case you are wondering, Science Officer Solon in Chapter 10 is not the same character as Chief Opposer Solon portrayed by Brock Peters in the original series epidsode "Murder on the Rising Star". Finally, if you've enjoyed this story, please take a moment to leave a comment or review. Constructive criticism, both positive and negative, is also welcomed._

 _'****_


End file.
